Thirty Days
by eatingpaper
Summary: Thirty days. A lot of things can happen in thirty days. Like falling in love with your stalker, healing old scars, running from your past and having your world break down. /SpainxFem!Romano, Gakuen-AU. *Hiatus*
1. A is for Antonio

Disclaimer(s): Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. Because if I did, Spain and Romano would be an established couple.  
I also don't own the Citroen DS. It belongs to Citroen. It's still looking like a very cool , very slimy thing to me.  
Francis' French belongs to Yahoo!BabelFish, no I don't really know what that means.  
Spain's cheesy pick-up lines belongs to youknowhoyouare who tried it on me.

And so.

* * *

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo sat on the front steps of his block of apartments, waiting in the chill morning air for his friend to arrive. He himself was 10 minutes late, but his friends were always later so it didn't matter. He was cheerfully whistling a flamenco tune along to the birdsong when his ears caught the telltale purr of an engine and instinctively, he leapt up and retreated to the relatively safer patch of grass next to the front steps.

No less than a foot where he had been previously sitting was a flashy red and blue Citroen DS. A blonde head was poking out of the driver's window.

"Francis!" Antonio called out, waving and running towards the car with a big smile. Summer break had just ended, and Antonio had spent majority of the one-month holiday in Spain with his family.

"Bonjour, Antonio," Francis replied with an equally broad smile as Antonio pulled the car door open and slid into the seat.

Once Antonio's butt was in contact with the smooth leather, Francis peeled out of the driveway, nearly causing his friend to fly out of the window. "Gil's not here today?" Antonio managed as he felt around for the safety belt (if it was even there). The car would usually contain the third member of their little group before making it to Antonio's house.

Francis shrugged. "His stone block of a brother told me he had left for school earlier, which is something new for someone like Gilbert," he let out a smirk. "But I'm not complaining. My precious cars are better off without him." Both he and Antonio let out a shudder at the memory of the one and only time Francis had let Gilbert drive – he had ended up wrecking the car. And then there was the time he had brought along ice cream… not pretty.

"How was your holiday?"

"The usual. Parties, girls, girls, more girls. Oh, and there was a young man I met at this bar downtown. I swear, I'd have gotten into his pants that night if he hadn't disappeared. He has blonde hair and sexy green eyes and a gorgeous figure, except for maybe his eye brows, which were ..."

Antonio smiled to himself at his friend's reply. He was used to him being such a flirt. "Guys, girls, it doesn't matter to me at all~" was what Fracis said.

"…and I know Spanish ladies are one of the sexiest – not as sexy as French but anyway – so did you manage to get yourself one?"

"What?" Antonio said absently, thinking about the new patch of tomatoes he was growing in the yard behind his block.

"Spanish ladies, Tonio!" Francis' voice drew on an agitated tone. "_Love!_ _Passion!_"

Antonio looked at his friend, trying to decipher what the blonde was saying. "I…didn't get any Spanish girlfriends?" He ventured. Francis shot him a horrified look.

"You go to Spain and not get any Spanish sex? Mon dieu! Quel est le problème avec vous?"

"Mon dew what?"

"I know that sometimes you are dense and – and, but how can you not have any Spanish sex?"

"I'd like it if you didn't talk about my country like –"

"No charm! –"

"like they're whores –"

" – no skills! –"

"But I'm not even _interested!_"

There was a second of sudden silence as the information started to slowly sink into Francis' brain.

Suddenly, the car swerved towards the lane on the left, right into oncoming traffic. "Francis!" Antonio yelled, reaching over to turn the steering wheel just in time to prevent a head-on collision with another car. The ensuing angry honks from angrier drivers seemed to shake Francis out of whatever daze he was in and he silently took the wheel again. Antonio simply stared tensely at him. After that brief near-death experience, the two of them drove along in relative silence with thumping hearts and mixed emotions.

"You..are you really Spanish?" Antonio sighed.

"Yes I am Spanish, Francis. Just as much as you are French. There's no need to question my heritage that I come –"

"From the 'Country of Passion'," Antonio brightened up and smiled.

"Exactly! You're so smart, Francis!"

"If you don't get a girl in one week, I'll post those embarrassing pictures I have of you online."

"Wait, one week to do what?"

"To make sure you have the passionate Spanish charm, bien sûr."

"But – but I'm not _you._ One week is too short!" _And how did the conversation digress into this? _Antonio asked himself.

"Fine then. Thirty days is all you have to get a girl, or else those embarrassante pictures are getting posted to my blog," Francis said, smirking at the thought of those pictures. "Deal?"

"…Deal."

Francis smirked to himself as he pressed down on the pedal, zooming towards school with a light heart and a feeling of someone happy that for once things were going his way. Antonio grimaced to himself as he pressed against the seat, wishing he could just melt into the soft leather and not have to go through with the deal. Getting a girlfriend and being in a relationship was okay with him (he was _male,_ it was only natural for him to want a girlfriend), but not with a time limit of thirty fleeting days, a penalty of embarrassing pictures and the ticking time bomb that was one highly excitable and sexually devious Francis Bonnefoy.

* * *

Romina carefully painted on a layer of salmon coloured concealer on the area with her fingertip, making sure that the strokes were even and the concealer didn't clump up. As she painted, she slowly worked outwards, blending in the concealer with her own skin tone. Once, she applied a little more pressure than necessary and winced in the resulting pain. When she was done, she angled her head this way and that to make sure that the area was perfectly flat and even before letting it dry. She mixed two shades of foundation together to get a hue closer to her own lightly tanned one, and lightly dabbed in onto the concealer once it had dried, taking care not to smudge the concealer. Finally, she used a compact puff to dab on a little translucent powder as well as to smoothen out the entire area.

Looking into the mirror, she again angled her head to make sure that the makeup was not noticeable. Satisfied with her work, she washed her hands and forearms, rubbing to make the foundation mix come off, and then rinsed and dried her brushes. Collecting her assortment of tubes, bottles, brushes and compacts, she stuffed them into her makeup kit, which was in turn stuffed into her bag.

She gave herself an once-over before turning to leave the girl's restroom. On her way out, she dropped the bag of ice into the garbage can.

* * *

Felica Vargas hummed to herself happily as she bounded through the corridors looking for her sister. The moment they had reached school, her beloved sister had left her side and run away somewhere. Felicia had tried to follow her, but she was never the athletic one of the two. And when Romina wanted to be fast, she was fast. And now that Felicia had something wonderful to tell her, Romina was not in sight. She sighed as she flitted through the thickening crowd around the corridors. She knew the reason why Romina always had to run away, but she was too afraid to eliminate the reason. She loved her sister with all her heart - not as much as her future boyfriend, maybe - they were twins, after all!

It was Romina who killed the spiders for her, Romina who brought home tomatoes for the pasta sauce, Romina who looked after her when their grandpa was away on one of his tours, Romina who always protec -

Ah! Found her!

"Sorella!" Felicia exclaimed cheerfully, running up to her sister. Her smile faltered a little, however, when she saw Romina's face. "Sorella! Look what I got!" Romina shifted the weight of books in her arms with an impassive expression.

"Yeah, what?" Romina asked brusquely. Felicia held up a tube of some gel.

"Look! Feliks says it can make the bruises heal faster!" Romina rolled her eyes.

"Wow, how cool!" She said sarcastically, "I don't need that bitch's sympathy." Romina slammed her locker door close and brushed past her twin sister to make her way to her classroom.

Felicia stood alone for a moment before leaning against the cool metal of the locker door. She wondered why her chest felt so heavy and why there were tears in her eyes.

* * *

He was not having any luck. Not at all.

Lady Luck must have taken the day off today.

"Please, Katyusha, for just thirty days?" He pleaded with the best kicked-puppy look he could muster. The girl in question, the wonderfully endowed Katyusha, blushed but firmly shook her head.

"I'm sorry Antonio, but Vanya…he will be heartbroken," Katyushua spoke tenderly of her brother, even referring to him with a childhood nickname. "Why don't you ask Belle?" She offered as an afterthought, though she was sure Antonio would not ask the girl.

Sure enough, Antonio's face fell at the prospect. Nevertheless, he cheerfully said a "Thanks, Katyusha!" before closing his locker. He had already tried asking Belle, the short-haired and equally cheerful girl from Belgium, but she too had turned him down in favour of her brother. He could still remember the fight between the siblings that had erupted over his fling with her in their first year.

But that had been two years ago and now it was his last year in Hetalia Academy. The years had flown by; times had changed and so had he. Gone were the carefree days of running around and pulling pranks on unsuspecting victims with Francis and Gilbert (though they occasionally still did, but it was kept down to a minimum). There were finals to study for now…

…and come to think of it, weren't they only three months away…?

"The heck? Watch where you're going!" An angry voice pulled him out of his depressing thoughts. He looked down to see a brown-haired girl glaring up at him. She was on the floor, busy picking up books that had most certainly fallen from her arms. His mouth was open. He had been about to apologize to her when all the "I'm sorry"s and "I'll help you"s flew out of his mind entirely.

"Do you have a plaster?" he asked, crouching down in front of her.

"_What_?" She asked, incredulous.

"Because I scraped my knees falling for you."

Oh, Antonio didn't get scraped knees, but he did get a History textbook thrown into his face as the girl scrambled up and yelled something that sounded a lot like 'Fuck you!' before storming off.

All he could think of was how beautiful her mahogany hair had seemed, how brilliant her fiery hazel eyes had seemed, how her blush was so, terribly adorable.

Just like a tomato.

The huge grin on his face would not go away.

* * *

She went back to the bathroom. This time, she did not deposit her bag on the counter but went into a cubicle and sat on the closed toilet seat. Pulling up her knees to her chest, she gently touched her cheeks.

They still burned.

She had to resist the urge to bury her head in her arms because then all the carefully applied makeup would be ruined. So all she did was will her heart to stop beating so fast as she let herself out and padded over to the mirror to make sure that yes, the makeup was still flawless.

But her cheeks were so terribly red with the blush, she looked just like a tomato.

* * *

"Feli! How was the gel? It's like, awesome, right?" Feliks greeted her friend who had just returned to their classroom. Felicia replied with a small smile.

"Yeah, it was great, but can I keep it for a while longer?"

"Like, of course! I, like, totally recommend you to like, get some yourself!" Feliks said with an elaborate flourish.

"Thanks."

* * *

It was fifteen minutes into homeroom when she finally stepped into the classroom. Her desk was right at the back of the class (perfect for carrying out downright improper acts) so she managed to sneak into her seat without the teacher noticing.

Her classmates, however, noticed. A murmur ran through the class.

She kept quiet and glared at anyone who looked her way.

What did she care, anyway?

* * *

He was not having any luck. Not at all.

But how could Lady Luck have abandoned the awesome him?

He had sulkily wandered the corridors of the school until the bell rang, and then continued to sulk for majority of the duration of the biology lesson in his seat at the back of the class. The only thing that could bring him out of his bad mood was the very same one that sent him head first into it in the first place.

Scrap that. He still had Roddy to cheer him up. He grimly resolved to use Roddy to the utmost fullest and spent the next hour and half of Chemistry to plan how he was going to go about doing so.

* * *

done! -flails around-

This is the first chapter of the first multi-chapter fic I'm doing! I hope you like(d) it! I'm still trying to improve my writing, so if you have any suggestions / criticism / pointers, feel free to tell me (more like, TELL ME NAO, RAWR). and I'm still working on trying to get the characters IC, so pardon me if they are a bit off... AND LAWL, yes I know Gakuen-AUs are one of the most widely used AUs, but seriously, all my happy, interesting events of my life happened and are still happening in school.  
(and tell me if there's any spelling and/or grammar mistakes. I tend to overlook those and I've no Beta but I've tried!)


	2. B is for Beginnings

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Disclaimer : Hetalia belongs to Himaruya , Antonio's Spanish, Francis' French and the Vargas Twins' Italian belong to Yahoo!BabelFish , Salut d'Amor belongs to Elgar. . yadahyadah.

And the pickup line? Don't ask me about it, please.

I must say Sorry. ;_;

* * *

Romina Vargas sat at the back of the class where the teacher couldn't see what she was doing, which was good because most of the time, she wasn't paying attention in class.

Like how she was now.

Her notebook was open in front of her, and she was busy scribbling down things: new techniques and colour palettes, and reminders to do her long overdue homework. As she was writing down how to best minimize a blush, her mind wandered to the student she had bumped into in the hallway, with his dumb smile and corny pickup line, and her cheeks started to burn again.

The teacher paused in her explanation of how volcanoes formed, and asked sharply. "Is anything the matter, Vargas?" Heads turned, and Romina's expression quickly changed into a scowl. She shook her head in response, cupping her cheeks with her hands in an attempt to hide the blush, taking care not to press too hard.

As the teacher resumed her lesson and Romina returned to her notebook, she could hear the whispered comments among her classmates.

* * *

Antonio spent majority of his morning lessons in a grinning, daydreaming state. He would mumble things about tomatoes and hazels under his breath, garnering Katyusha's concern. She would nudge him occasionally to temporarily jerk the oblivious boy out of his daze so that the teacher would not call out on him. She thought she felt a bit guilty, in case her rejection had caused her friend to go off the edge. True, she liked Antonio, but in the same motherly, sisterly way she loved her little brother.

A small frown appeared on her face as she thought of her brother. She missed him.

It's time to pay a visit to the flower shop

* * *

He grinned to himself as he looked at the list he had just completed. The heading, in very large capitals, read: Roddy Entertainment. The points under the heading, also in capitals albeit smaller in size, were the numerous ways he was going to go about teasing, embarrassing and playing pranks on Roddy. After a quick glance to the clock on the wall, he scanned the list, trying to see if he had left anything out.

**NUMBER 46: TEASE RODDY ABOUT LIZ **

He stopped.

"Aw great, now I've lost my awesome mood."

He stood up, chair scraping angrily on the stone floor, crumpling the list in his hands and tossing it into the wastepaper bin. It was lunch break and his classroom was empty save for himself. Antonio and Francis, he knew, were still having lessons. Sighing, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and strolled out to the corridor.

He'd just pay a visit to the pansy with girly hands.

* * *

A skirt two centimeters above the dictated knee-length, a red and blue and white striped bra clearly visible underneath the thin white cotton blouse with two out of the give buttons opened. A pair of pouty, kissable lips, carefully applied makeup and curled eyelashes. One leg hooked over the other, swinging invitingly in the air, shoulder length blond hair tousled artfully.

If anything, Amelia F. Jones looked ravishing.

"Mattie, Mattie!" She said exuberantly to the girl sitting next to her. "Do you think Artie will notice me today?" The girl looked up from her book and ached an eyebrow, half-shrugging.

"You're eye-catching," She said in her soft voice.

"Damn straight I'm eye-catching!" Amelia said confidently to herself. She had woken up an hour earlier than usual to prepare herself for school, and she was sure that today was _the_ day that disgruntled, bossy, arrogant boy would look her way.

"I don't know what you see in that guy, Amelia."

"Hmm? What did you say, Mattie? Come on, stop reading that weird book and let's go for lunch! I'm starving!" Amelia jumped up and snatched the yellow book from the girl's hands, throwing it somewhere in the classroom behind her, before proceeding to drag the girl out of the classroom after her.

Time to show that man how awesome and essential she was.

* * *

She didn't care about what the rumors said about her, as long as it didn't concern her sister. She never had any good reputation to uphold in the first place, so one that kept the people away was fine by her. It didn't matter if she had to distance herself from her sister, just as long as Felicia was happy, well-liked and had friends.

Oh, but if there was anything bad being said about Felicia…

Scowling, she gently touched her cheek, and pulled out three photographs: clear, detailed close-ups of three different people. It was her pastime. She didn't enjoy it, because it was extremely childish, but she did it anyway because it was necessary. Taking out her makeup kit, she set to work.

In about half an hour she was done and studied her handiwork. Flipping the photographs over, she wrote short, sweet and extremely threatening letters on the back. Letting out a rare smile, she collected her materials and set off for the bathroom to wash them again, the photographs tucked into a pocket of the bag.

* * *

"Oi! Roddy!" Gilbert called out to the brunette, who spun around with a concerned expression which immediately changed into one of nonchalance.

"Yes? What do you want?" He asked flatly as the other walked over the parquet floor to him. Gilbert frowned. Here he was, letting the pansy bask in his awesome awesomeness, and the pansy treated him with such indifference and rudeness!

"What else would I want but to ask you something, duh! I always knew you were stupid and _so _un-awesome, but really!" Gilbert plopped down on the piano bench next to him and leaned his head back, letting it rest against the edge of the top of the grand piano. "I…need some help."

Roderich Edelstein said nothing and fiddled about with his sheet music for a moment or two, trying to figure out what was happening. To him, there were only two circumstances in which the other man would come asking for help: He had either asked his younger brother one too many times for money, or he had angered Elizabeta enough for her to take out her frying pan.

Everything about Gilbert's attitude, however, told something else. Roderich sighed and placed his neatened file of sheet music back on the ledge, and splayed his fingers on the key board.

"It's…about a girl…" Roderich lightly pressed down on the G-sharp key. "She's…she's quiet and really smart and cute and I really, really like her." – B – "But I've heard that she's dating someone already…and it's Francis, _Francis _of all people!" – G-sharp – "I don't know but…I don't think Francis is the person for her." – F-sharp – "I mean, I'm obviously a better choice, right?"

"Maybe if you dropped that cocky attitude, yes," – E – "Does this girl like you?"

"…I'm not sure…maybe?"

The conversation lapsed and the music room was quiet once more. Roderich closed his eyes, took a breath and played music.

His fingers pressed down on the black and white keys, gently and tenderly like a mother caressing her child. His head was bobbing, moving, swaying along to the rhythm and slow tempo, eyes closed and a serene smile playing across his face as if he was sharing some private joke with piano.

To Gilbert, it was as if his friend was one in mind, body and soul, with the music he was teasing out of the piano.

On days except today, he would make some snide, uncalled for jibe at Roddy's behaviour. Today, he followed suit: shut his eyes, and relax. Perhaps if he did, he could see whatever his friend was seeing, feel whatever he felt, hear something other than plink-plink.

He did not.

"Love cannot be forced."

Gilbert had to restrain himself from making an inappropriate, frustrated sound. He got up from the piano bench, lightly flicked the still playing Roderich at the back of the head and turned to leave the music room.

He tried to tell himself, as much as he believed otherwise, that those words were superfluous.

* * *

He lay on his back, staring up at the sky, searching for objects within the white mass of fluffy clouds. He had already found an umbrella, an egg and a heart. A shadow suddenly obstructed his view, and he found himself reflected in absinthe eyes above a smile brighter than the sun. "¡Hola, Francis!"

"Antonio!" Francis smiled up at his friend. It had been roughly four hours since the enjoyable car ride to school. All through middle school, the three of them, Francis, Antonio and Gilbert, had been in the same class, but that had changed in high school. Francis had taken the Arts stream, Antonio, the brainiest of the three, had picked the science stream; and Gilbert was happy with his Humanities (it was just memorizing and regurgitating facts). His happiness at seeing his friend was, for the most part, excitement. "How is the deal going?"

"Say, Francis," Antonio chose to ignore the question and instead lay down next to his friend on his stomach, chin resting on one upturned palm, the other hand fiddling in the grass. "Do you know any girls with beautiful hazel eyes and lustrous brown hair?" Francis made a face.

"Around half the girls in school look like that, mon ami." Antonio crinkled his brow.

"She swears, and when she blushes, it's so cute, her entire face goes red, she looks like a tomato!" Antonio said, smiling as he remembered the way she stormed off red-faced. "Oh, and she's got a strand of hair that curls up, kind of like this," He reached up to bend his own short, curly dark brown hair away from his scalp. Francis watched, open mouthed with a mixture of horror and dismay.

"Don't tell me…you've got a thing for _Romina Vargas_!"

Antonio's eyes lit up. "Is that her name? It's so cute! Just like her!"

"Please tell me you don't, Toni!" Francis shot up right, and grasped Antonio's face in his hands. "Tell me you don't like Romina Vargas!"

"Why," Antonio removed his friend's hands, looking up and straight into Francis' blue eyes. "Would I tell you that?" Francis had never heard his happy-go-lucky friend sound so dark or threatening before.

"Mon dieu," He said faintly to himself. "That Romina Vargas is bad, bad news."

* * *

Arthur Kirkland groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked the halls of the school, footsteps resonating loudly and angrily. He hated schooldays right after the holidays, or after the weekend when everybody was in a holiday mood and nobody bothered to adhere to the rules.

Like that Amelia F. Jones.

The loud American girl, he was sure, was almost – if not, worse – than those three seniors: Beilschmidt, Carriedo and Bonnefoy. _Francis _Bonnefoy. Oh god.

He altered his route to make a beeline for the nearest toilet to splash his face with cold water. He would not, repeat, would not allow what that man had said to get to him. Arthur squared his shoulders and gave the blonde boy in the mirror an approving look before leaving the bathroom.

He was the bloody Student President and she was nothing but someone to give detention to.

* * *

She was originally just going to wash her brushes, and then send the photographs to their respective addressees, but she as looked at herself in the mirror, she paused and reached up to gently touch her cheek. It still hurt. During the course of the day, the makeup had smudged a little, revealing the blue-yellow-purple underneath.

She didn't care what she looked like, but Felicia, she knew, was worried about her and if hiding it would make it just a little bit better, she didn't mind. Setting her bag next to the sink, she drew out the salmon concealer and foundation.

* * *

Antonio walked aimlessly around the school, hoping that he would somehow bump into Romina Vargas. He believed they would: they were fated to be together! Francis had told him that Romina was a 1st year, along with some other things that Antonio thought was not nice to say about her, like how she was bulimic, or she was in some gang and got into street fights, or how she would self-harm.

Though Francis probably knew more about the girl than anyone at school (due to Romina being 'a hermit who glares and scowls and hurls curses at you'), Antonio felt that he had gotten all his information wrong. Romina just did not seem to be that kind of person.

Is that _her_?

He ran up to the girl walking in the opposite direction from him, a '¡Hola' on his lips and arms ready to hug her, but slowed to a walk when he got closer. As he neared, he noticed that the brunette was not Romina Vargas. For starters, Romina's hair was a darker brown, and cut differently. Though there was the same curl of hair, Romina's was on the right side of her head. And those large, sparkling brown eyes were just not Romina.

"¡Hola!" Antonio said. "Do you happen to know who Romina Vargas is?" The girl blinked up at him.

"Ve, I was just looking for her, too! How do you know sorella?" The girl asked happily, bouncing up and down on her heels. Her voice was high and cutesy and a sharp contrast to Romina's lower, mature-sounding voice. "She's –"

"Fucking right here if you need me, bastardo," Both Felicia and Antonio's faces lit up as they turned to see Romina marching towards them, an angry scowl on her face. She expertly sidestepped Felicia's lunging hug and walked up to Antonio. "Hands off my sister, hai capito?" She scowled. Antonio smiled. Felicia looked on, and the usually oblivious girl had a knowing gleam in her eyes.

"You're Italian?" Antonio asked brightly. Romina glared at him.

"So?"

"You're Italian and I'm Spanish but we can do French together!"

There was a moment of awkward silence as Romina tried to understand what he had said, and when she did, she blushed furiously again.

"Let's go, Felicia." She spun around and grabbed her sister by the wrist, angrily storming off.

Antonio watched them go, thinking about tomatoes again.

* * *

Arthur walked into the cafeteria, and almost walked out again. He had one foot out the door when he told himself firmly that he wasn't Student President for nothing. He would not run away from something as stupid as this, and instead march up to her and haul her up for another round of reprimanding or detention, whichever was easier.

Mattie's eyes tracked his progress as he approached them. "Amelia, he's here," She said in a soft voice that Amelia miraculously managed to hear over the noise of the cafeteria. She immediately reached up to check that her hair was in place. Amelia spun around with a smile on her face.

"Artie!" She said excitedly, "There you are!"

Arthur grimaced at both the cheerful voice and the stupid nickname. "Amelia F. Jones," He said as smoothly as he could, "This will be the fiftieth time I have had to book you for inappropriate dressing."

"Aw, Artie, must you be so uptight all the time?"

"And stop calling me Artie," Arthur added as he held out the blue booking card and a pen to the girl. "It's not like we're close friends or anything." Amelia's face fell slightly and she sheepishly accepted the card and offered pen. As she was writing her name under the 'Offenders' column, Arthur reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded note and reached over Amelia's hunched back to hand it to Mattie, who accepted it with a small smile.

He was stupid for thinking the Frenchman could have been telling the truth.

"Mattie, Mattie! Let's go! The bell's gonna ring soon!" Amelia exclaimed, jumping up and walking away really quickly, not looking back to see if her friend had followed her. Curious, Arthur picked up the blue card.

"Remember to add a sixty-five in front," Mattie said, giving the exasperated and flushed boy a knowing look.

Amelia's name had been signed in exaggerated cursive. Beside the curl of the S were eight digits.

* * *

Felicia smiled to herself as she thought of the boy she had encountered in the hallway. He obviously had a thing for her sister, something she was extremely pleased and grateful for. Romina was making friends! And that boy even had potential to become her future brother-in-law! He had managed to make her blush! He was good looking – not as good-looking at her future boyfriend, maybe – and seemed to have a nice personality to boot. She thoroughly approved of him. Felicia grinned and reached up to plant a kiss on her sister's cheek, not noticing when her twin winced in pain. "Andare per esso!" She said happily and ran off to class, leaving a blushing and spluttering Romina behind.

She only made it as far as the first corner, where she promptly sat down and buried her head in her arms.

She could taste foundation on her lips.

* * *

Ludwig sighed wearily to himself as he made his way back to his classroom. World History would start in fifteen minutes, and he wasn't looking forward to it because perpetually portrayed as the bad one of the lot was Germany. A sob stopped him in his tracks, and he looked down at his feet to see a brunette, with her head buried in her arms, thin frame shaking slightly with her cries.

He stood arrested there, unsure of what to do. He never had much human contact, especially the female kind, throughout his short life. Awkward, he slowly sat down next to her and hesitatingly patted her head. It only occurred to him much later that he was treating her like one of his dogs, and immediately withdrew his hand.

"Are…you okay?"

The girl's head shot up, and she looked at him through teary eyes before rubbing at her tears while smiling, embarrassed at her actions. "Ve, I think so!" She said, giggling lightly. She tried to neaten her hair by running her hands through it, though careful not to damage her locks. "Who are you?" Even with her attempts, there was still a curl in her hair that wouldn't straighten out.

He looked at her in consternation. "I'm Ludwig."

She sent him her best smile and stood up, dusting herself off. "I'm Felicia Vargas!" _And I want you to be my boyfriend_.

* * *

/flails.

_Hai capito = You got it? _

_Sorella = Sister _

_Andare per esso = Go for it _

I'm so sorry for this chapter! I had a writer's block of sorts, and it's exams (ending 15th Aug, whoo!) , and so it sort of turned out like this. It also feels like my writing style has changed a bit, from passive to a little more current. Anyway. It's not as dark as the first chapter (;_;) It feels like I'm compensating quality with quantity D;

I love Amelia. She might become my favourite character.

In Singapore, there's a +65 added to our phone numbers. It's our area code. And in my school, the prefects have little blue cards they write your name and offence down on, and different offences have different weightage of demerit points. Accumulation of 9 demerit points equals detention.

(Many) Thanks to **PoisonIvania** who helped me with Roddy's playing of Salut d'Amor (Yes, that's what Roddy was playing to Gilbert). I've never been a very musical person.

I think things will start getting interesting by the next chapter, when ahem comes back from ahemahem? :D

I'll try to update weekly, give or take a few days, though be prepared to be either spammed with chapters or none at all.

And thank you all who reviewed / alerted , especially** sugerpie-chan**. LOL.

**Sile the Reader,** no offence but Feliciana is a mouthfull and I prefer Romano to Lovino, maybe because Rs are cuter than Ls. Lovina sounds sharp. Very sharp.

Comments , reviews , critiques , suggestions? There's a blue link under this sentence.


	3. C is for Conundrum

First of all, you have to believe me when I say I love you very much, because I do. I probably might have not have uploaded until a _long _time later if it were not for you.

Secondly, you also have to believe me when I say I am very, very sorry, because I honestly am. I have nothing to offer except for the age-old, over-used excuses of _writers' block _and _school_.

Third, and lastly, I apologize for this chapter; I wrote it because well, I felt bad D; so it might not be excellent / whathaveyous , but uhm, yeah.

Disclaimer : Mister HH is the rightful owner of Hetalia

Oh and I have lots of things to say so please read the A/N at the bottom, da?

* * *

Francis Bonnefoy sat on the cracked tiling with his back to the aging stonewall of the school building, waiting in the afternoon heat for his beloved to arrive. He would much rather be in the air-conditioned auditorium getting ready for practice, but he had had half an hour to spare before his co-curricular activity started and he _had_ asked his girlfriend to meet him at the back of school before he went off. The month of not seeing her was too much to bear.

However, ten minutes had already passed and his beloved, never one to be late, was nowhere in sight. There was, however, a chance that the stuck up Arthur had not given her the slip of paper like Francis had instructed. With a sigh, the Frenchman ran a hand through his blonde hair, mood souring at the thought of the infuriating, yet somehow endearing, Englishman.

The two of them had been at each other's throats ever since the day Arthur had joined the school. It was with Arthur whom he had competed against for post of Student Council President (regardless of flirtatious ways, Francis was quite the capable one), Arthur with his insults and scornful ways and the adorable flushes when he got mad, Arthur with his enormous eye –

Here, Francis stopped his train of thought, eyes widening slightly at the sudden realization: Arthur who had the same enormous eyebrows as the boy back at the club…not to mention the similar blonde hair and green eyes and sexy figure…

"Fr-Francis!" Quick footsteps and small pants reached his ears and his head snapped up towards the source of the sound. The shy and soft-spoken girl, usually as pale as a ghost (and also as invisible as one), was now red in the face from exertion. "I'm sorry! I was held up by some-something and I tried to get here as fast as I could," she said within puffs.

"Ah!" Francis said airily. He slowly got up and walked over to the panting girl. The way she looked up at him with her violet eyes and flushed cheeks was just too adorable it made him – _control, Francis. _"I am so sorry, mon cher, but I suddenly remembered something that I need to do." He dipped his head and lightly kissed the girl on the lips before giving her a squeeze and then broke off at a run without so much as a backwards glance.

Matilda Williams stood with her back to him, thinking that everything Gilbert had said, really, was quite, quite true.

It was nothing, really. Drama Society started in fifteen minutes – Francis was understandably hungry and he _was _busy with his duties as Vice-President; he often had to turn her down in favour for some meeting or other.

She tried to convince herself on the way back to her classroom.

He had some major role in the upcoming performance, didn't he? He had no time to meet her during the recent holidays because he was busy with practice, of course not. Oh, and he was a senior too – Finals were in a few months time. He had to cancel their dates to make way for study sessions. It was nothing.

But she had lost, and she knew it.

* * *

Katyusha allowed herself a small smile as she walked cheerfully towards the flower shop. It was a bright and sunny afternoon and the clouds were making funny shapes in the sky. Usually, trips to the flower shop were depressing occasions, but she had received a call from the kind nurse who said that her brother was doing better already.

The flower shop gentleman – I mean, florist – saw her coming down the street and smiled, too; he was fond of the girl. He went to the back of her shop where the sunflowers stood, their beautiful petals augmented, they almost seemed like the sun smiling down on them above.

"Hello Mister Parker!" Katyusha greeted the florist. Mister Parker was a middle-aged man with a large paunch and a penchant for flowers. He returned the smile and handed her the newly made bouquet of sunflowers.

"Your brother doin' good, I expect?"

She smiled in return.

* * *

"Felicia!" The girl turned around to see her twin standing in the doorway of her class, arms crossed over her chest and the perpetual scowl on her face.

"Sorella!" Felicia exclaimed, flying towards her sister with arms wide open for a hug which Romina avoided deftly. "Here so early?" She asked. Romina shrugged nonchalantly.

"We can be early for once." Felicia nodded happily and then walked back to Feliks, who was holding up her bag, a spring in her step.

"Is that really your sister? Like, oh my gosh, you two are like totally different!" She whispered to her friend. Felicia cocked her head to one side, seemingly not understanding.

"Romina is really, _really _nice!" She answered, smiling.

Feliks nodded hesitantly and passed the bag to her friend. "I'll just, like, wait for Liet on my own, so you just like, have fun with drama!" Felicia smiled again and hurried to her sister, and they left, Romina angrily telling Felicia to _stop putting your arms around me!_

Anyone who didn't know her friend as well as Feliks did wouldn't have noticed that her smile wasn't as bright as before.

She also couldn't imagine why Felicia would want to borrow her Arnica gel.

* * *

Arthur sighed and pressed his forehead against his interlaced fingers, grimacing inwardly at the growing headache. His absinthe eyes fluttered open to rest on the slip of paper that lay on the mahogany desk before him.

He groaned, this time out loud.

Arthur didn't know what he had been doing when he carefully copied Amelia's phone number down from the booking card – ah, he couldn't have possibly left it there, could he? It was not a sign of anything between the two of them, he told himself firmly. The girl was obviously interested in him – it was blatant in the smiles and glances sent his way – but he still had to sort out his feelings.

Amelia Fucking Jones, as she loved to call herself, was considered the school's – the town's – golden child. She was intelligent, charismatic, beautiful, came from a good family and was obviously headed towards a wonderful future. Arthur, he prided, wasn't too bad either (not as inferior as that frog), but under the respectable image of Student President and valedictorian, he had his own share of things that _weren't_, and he couldn't go around endangering other peoples' futures by associating with them… and what with Peter now …

"Oh Arthur~!" a singsong voice jerked him out of his contemplation, and he looked up, annoyance clearly written on his face.

Damn that Frenchman.

"What is it, you stupid frog?" Arthur quickly shoved the paper slip into his pocket and arranged the documents – he was supposed to be moderating ideas for the upcoming festival – to make it seem as if he had been doing his work, not thinking about a certain girl.

He looked on scornfully as Francis waltzed into the room and settling himself down on the sofa just in front of him and eyed him carefully. "So grumpy already? You'll get ugly wrinkles in your face, mon ami."

"What my face looks like is of no business to you, frog," Arthur replied coolly. "And try to use English when communicating with me, if your non-existent brain would let you."

The other male pulled a pain expression. "You hurt my feelings so!" He would have shot some snarky comment about the dispassionate English language, but he had couldn't afford to make Arthur _too _angry. Leaning forward until he could rest his hands on Arthur's desk, he cupped his chin in an upturned palm, "And speaking about your face, mon ami, isn't it odd that I saw it at a night club not too long ago?"

* * *

"Children, children!" A clear voice cut over the cacophony of simultaneous conversations in the auditorium, and heads turned to face the lady on stage. She was tall and skinny, with her graying hair tied into a tight bun which seemed to pull all emotion from her face. No one in the auditorium liked to be called 'children', but Miss Gudrun loved them and never had any of her own.

As she instructed the students to get ready and into positions, and begin with practice, the twins squeezed their way backstage.

Stepping out from under the red velvet curtains, it seemed as though one had stepped into another world from the sophisticated glitz and glamour of the stage. Backstage was in its usual state of chaos: Elizaveta was running around barking orders and waving what seemed to be a frying pan; Carlotta was passionately despairing over how her painstakingly crafted stage props were being manhandled; Mathias was playing with the lighting _again_.

In the midst of the chaos, Kiku, a short, dark haired male was wandering around, running his hands over the smooth cloth of the newly-made costumes. He was immediately tackled to the floor by an enthusiastic Felicia.

Romina scowled at the unseemly sight of her sister rolling on the parquet flooring with the boy, tripping up people in the process, and deadpanned when Carlotta greeted her warmly.

But she let out a small smile when, as she deposited her and her sisters' bags in the corner, Elizaveta brought her frying pan crashing down on Mathias. She retrieved her makeup kit from the mess of her bag and went over to try separate her sister from the stupid Japanese man.

Backstage was made up of people she'd rather not associate with, but it was the closest she could get to a place where she could be herself.

* * *

Her hair fell around her face in pale, grayish white hanks. She liked her hair better when it was longer and she could run her hands though it, pretending that they were someone else's hands. Her hands lay on her folded lap. They were trembling softly.

Nowadays, everything about her seemed to be shaking.

* * *

Gilbert wandered the halls moodily, as he had in the morning, but this time he was more frustrated than upset. _Again, _he had tried to make Matilda see sense, and _again _the girl had refused to. The halls and classrooms were empty, which was to be expected since the students either had gone off for their respective co-curricular activities or had gone home. Thus, when he heard low voices – the kind of conspirational low – his interest was instantly piqued. He stealthily crept over to the door and peeked in, though he had no need because the room's occupants were far too concerned with each other to notice the silver which contrasted with the brown doorframe.

"…just going to say how handsome and attractive that boy was, and how much I would love to have my way with him." Gilbert's eyebrows joined together in a confused wrinkle. That low, flirtatious voice sounded a lot like Francis, and the blonde mop of hair certainly matched his friend, but while Gilbert knew that Francis was free with his love, he was quite sure that his friend was deeply in love with Matilda (at least, he was the last time Gilbert checked).

"How…" The other person had begun to say, and when Gilbert leaned further into the room, he could make out another blonde hair coupled with a red face. _It must be the Arthur_, he thought. "What are you talking about?" The-must-be-Arthur huffed and leaned back into his chair. "Really, your manners are appalling. You already have a wonderful girl like Matilda and yet you are still hankering after other people?"

Gilbert, who had been nodding to Arthur's accusations, suddenly froze. What was that about hankering after others? He knew Frenchie was nothing but a playboy who would break Matilda's heart! But did she? No, she wouldn't listen to his awesome words, even though she should because they were just awesome (and also the truth).

"But Mister Student President…" _Gott_, he felt like strangling the Frenchie just so he would stop using that sultry tone – "Matilda need not _know_."

For a moment, Gilbert saw red. He was about to jump the Frenchie and do something, say punch him, that _hurt._ However, he remembered the occasional suspensions the Office gave him for fighting on school grounds, his little brother reprimanding him for using his fists (and maybe a little of the legs and teeth) and above all, Matilda with her huge violet eyes, not pleased – not pleased _at all_ – if he went and punched her beloved, however much he deserved it.

He closed his eyes for a second and willed himself to calm down. It was not awesome, getting angry and losing his cool. He would go for a walk.

Yes. He would go for a walk by the fields.

* * *

He, sitting at the table, was an imposing sight. His back was ramrod straight and his blue eyes were fixed unseeingly on his speech. When the bell rang and it was his turn, he robotically stood up and swept his gaze around the lecture theatre.

Everybody, including the adjudicators, shuddered in their seats.

He got up and opened his mouth and the words came out, no one dared to look away or not pay attention. Similarly, no opposing Points Of Information came from Proposition.

At the end of the designated six minutes, his point put across in a sharp, clear and concise manner, he took his seat again.

It was hardly a surprise when the adjudicators declared Opposition the winning team.

But his mind had not been on the debate; he was thinking of the brown haired, crying girl in the hallway.

* * *

"你好!" The nurse said cheerfully as she wandered into the room and over to the patient's bed, fiddling with the IV drip attached to his arm. The patient managed to give her a small smile; besides the pain of the wound on his cheek, his muscles still had to get used to being utilized after so long a period of dormancy. "I called your sister," the nurse wandered over to the foot of the bed where the patient's card was, and ticked off a few boxes. "And she told me she's coming over to see you soon."

She wore a red Chinese traditional coat over her usual white gown, with a dragon embroidered in gold thread sprawled over the right side and on to the left, where its claws curved upwards near her chest and its great nose rested at the collar, as if the beast was nuzzling her neck. The creature's eyes were done in violet, the same colour as the patient's eyes that followed the nurse relentlessly.

The red of the coat reminded him not of blood spilt or of dying suns, but instead the crimson of the just and magnificent Red Army his mother often told him about.

She was an odd creature, in her red coat and strange mannerisms, and he found himself inexplicably drawn towards her.

He heard the door click and turned his head. His sister was in the doorway, a large bouquet of sunflowers in her hands. But even the bright yellows and reds could not rival the love and relief in her eyes.

"_Vanya_."

It was enough.

* * *

"I can't believe I'm actually doing this."

The scowl on Arthur's face told Francis all he needed to know – the man would love nothing more than to ram Francis' head into the desk and hope that it was enough to give him a concussion and amnesia.

"Mon cher, isn't this a marvelous deal?" He smirked at the infuriated and embarrassed man. "I keep my mouth shut and you keep your heart open."

Oh how Arthur wanted to wipe that disgusting, perverse smirk off that stupid frog's face! But he couldn't afford the frog going and shooting his mouth off about Arthur in the dance club, Arthur in the bar, Arthur in the shady part of town where he shouldn't have been. Pretending to go out with the frog was the better of the two evils.

He sighed and glanced out of the window in the Council room. He had been in there since school ended, miraculously having a civilized conversation with the damned Frenchman, and he was exhausted. It was getting dark; the sun was setting and he had to go home soon.

Never would anyone know about what lay under the façade of the outstanding student.

* * *

The sweat made the white shirt cling to her body, and the shorts had ridden up her thighs, exposing the snow-white skin. She had tied up her long blonde hair, revealing the expanse of unmarked skin from neck down. Gilbert, sitting just behind the white line burned into the grass, had to conjure up images of his younger brother in…a ballerina tutu to keep his mind from wandering.

His walk by the fields had led him to the place where lacrosse practice took place, and he had comfortably settled himself down behind the line, watching the girl as she darted around the place with her lacrosse stick. She was such a demure girl that he hadn't believed she was in such a violent game when he first found out – not like he was stalking and spying on her, he just somehow managed to overhear some people, or maybe accidentally stumbled upon the information in the school's files – but her aiming was excellent, and she was nearly always the one scoring.

A long shadow fell over him. "Gilbert?" He tilted backwards to stare up into her incredulous violet eyes. He hadn't noticed practice was over and the girls were trudging across the field towards the shower rooms. "Have you been…were you here the entire time?"

"Nope. Just since the part where you whacked the girl in the other team with the butt of your stick." Matilda flushed. It was embarrassing to have someone watching you all the time, especially when said person was there when embarrassing things happened.

"That was the very beginning of practice."

"Really?" Gilbert got up and gently took her lacrosse stick from her. "Of course I knew that, I'm too awesome not too. And because I'm awesome I have to carry this stick for you."

Matilda sighed and shook her head. She thought of the words they had exchanged just after classes finished, and then when Francis pelted back to school and the heavy feeling returned.

They had reached the building when Gilbert decided that the feelings in his chest had to be let out somehow.

"Listen, Mattie, I have something to tell you about Fran –"

"Oh look, that's him over –" Her voice died away as she saw him lean in and whisper something into another person's ear, and when he grabbed that person's arm and the other did not pull away.

Gilbert, standing by her side, suddenly felt very uncomfortable. "Uh yeah. About that…"

She didn't bother to listen to the rest as she turned and walked to the classroom block, in the opposite direction from her boyfriend and his newest conquest. He made to go after her, but decided against it; she would need some time to curl in some corner and cry, and he wasn't too good with crying girls.

He was glad when his younger brother appeared and called out to him, because if he hadn't, Frenchie would have been lying in some gutter somewhere with his brains smashed out.

* * *

Romina and Felicia were walking home, the yellow streetlamps lighting their way in the near darkness. Felicia was aimlessly prattling on about her day whilst Romina trudged silently beside her, eyes and ears alert. She was already annoyed, what with the wino bastard not turning up for Drama practice, and Felicia wasn't helping with her incessant chatter about some blonde guy she had met in the school hallways.

"Will you stop talking about that idiot?" She snapped, finally reaching the end of her patience. Felicia looked up at her twin, expression mirroring that of a kicked puppy. _Damn. _

"B-But Romi! I really, really like him!" Felicia protested. Romina groaned and pulled on her slender wrist.

"C'mon. It's getting too fucking dark already."

Felicia followed, quickening her pace to prevent herself from tripping over her feet. "Too fast – ouchie!" She cried when she ran into Romina's back. Her sister had suddenly stopped in her tracks with no apparent reason.

No apparent reason, that is, until she turned to where her sister was looking, and let out a gasp.

The light in their house was on.

* * *

Katyusha shouldered the door open. "I'm home!" she called out, receiving a muffled answer in return. She paused for a moment before placing the keys into the bowl by the door and hurrying to her sister's room. Her sister was sitting on her bed, reading a book and looking as calm as ever, though a bit odd without her long platinum hair. "What did you say?" She said breathlessly.

Her sister looked up. "I said 'Hello' –" She immediately found herself embraced by Katyusha, who was currently sniffling into her shoulder. "You…you'll get my clothes wet."

"Ahh…I'm sorry," Katyusha leaned back and wiped at her eyes and took a good look at her younger sister. So many happy things happening on the same day! "It's just that I'm very, very happy!"

Natalia let out a rare smile at her sister's joy.

* * *

"Bruder…" Ludwig pinched the bridge of his nose as he watched his older brother come out of the kitchen with his bedroom slippers on – and nothing else save for a pair of boxers that bore a chick motif. "How many times must I tell you to at least wear three pieces of clothing?"

Gilbert paused and looked down at himself. Fluffy rabbit ears looked back up at him. "I am."

"…"

"Slippers, boxers and my awesome skin." He went over to inspect the lacrosse stick he had accidentally brought home. "Can't you count, Luddy?"

Ludwig groaned buried his face in his palms.

* * *

Romina watched warily as her sister and their grandpa continuously hugged each other in welcome.

They had been afraid at first, in case the light meant that burglars were in the house. But when they had stealthily entered the house and found their grandfather, looking so much younger than he actually was and wearing a pink and white lacy apron, cooking pasta in the kitchen, Felicia's worries immediately faded and she launched herself into his open arms for a hug.

Romina, on the other hand, had lingered at the back and sniffed the air for any hint of alcohol. When she could detect none, she had to content herself with leaving her sister alone with the man and went upstairs to put down her bag and change.

But for the rest of the night she kept her distance and sometimes, her hand went to her cheek, unconsciously, inconspicuously massaging it.

* * *

She was tired and felt lost and empty, but when she lay on her bed, sleep would not come. She had gotten up and wandered around the shared apartment with the same lost, empty feeling in her heart and stumbled upon the chair in the balcony, and that was where Amelia found her, gazing out over the balustrade to the streets below, when she came home.

"Are you okay?" She asked, but she knew her friend was not. She was extremely bad at reading the atmosphere and similarly insensitive, but one look at her friend's red eyes and shallow expression was enough to tell her she was _not_ okay.

Matilda looked up and didn't answer; she had no idea how to explain it. All her life, she had been some sort of invisible being to everyone around her, and suddenly during her first year in high school, she was on the receiving end of a senior's affection. She had trusted him and believed him entirely, because she wanted _so _badly to be desired, to be loved, to be _noticed_. He had meant the entire world to her, and obviously she had meant _nothing _to him. She was just another girl in the mass of students out of which he had chosen by chance to shower love on.

"It's okay…" Amelia said, patting her friend's cheek.

_It's not okay_, she wanted to say, but the words don't come out. _You only say that because you have the ability to charm Arthur, but I don't have anyone. No one at _all. She stared up into her reflection in Amelia's beautiful blue eyes. Her hair was all mussed up and sticking to her scalp, her eyes were ringed in red and felt sore, and her skin had taken on a yellowish pallor. _How could I have deluded myself into thinking that I was good enough for someone like him_?

It was only later on when night had properly descended and when she was lying in her bed, fresh out from the bath, that she allowed herself to cry.

* * *

**(Yes I moved it up here so people can see this) And then you have the usual : Any mistakes or typos? Please tell me so I can correct them! Confused or you have something to say? Just PM me / review / whatever! :D I love to hear from the people who read this story **

**OHOHOHAND THIS IS IMPORTANT. **

**I have two (three, now) questions to ask you! :D **

**1) Should I use the story of Orpheus and Eurydice , or some other fairytale/myth/come up with one of my own ? Or should they do Shakespeare? I'm looking for something along the lines of lost love, or **一个无法弥补的过错**, which would be .. 'a mistake that one cannot right' . something with guilt and sorrow and despair and love . **

**2) What's China's female name? I don't knowww . **

**3) This might sound weird but : Any Catholics out there/here who don't mind talking to me / answering my questions about uh, them?(: Just reading Wikipedia and other various websites can_not_ beat talking to one in person.**

**(And now you get the earlier bits)  
**

No, I haven't died.

Yes, I uploaded a new chapter (FINALLY)

No, I cannot write angst for nuts .

Yes, it's extremely long, may not make any sense and it concludes Day One ! (: (29 more days to go )

I tried to do my best with Natalia , Ivan , Katyusha and Wang Yao. I'm not good with writing canon, as I have already mentioned. Anyway.

In my school we have co-curricular activities (CCA) after our normal school hours end. I think it's called 'after school activities' or 'blahblah - club' , in other places, but I prefer CCA. (it sounds SOPHISTICATED )

Drama CCA in my school is called Drama Society! Isn't it cool and awesome sounding? (but yes, it _really_ is). And about the debate uh. I just thought Luddy might be a good person for a debator , since he's got a lot of experience trying to convince the world that he's good and not evil like his bosses, and he _does _handle the World Meetings well, because america is useless at them , though he's supposed to be stoic and not very good at speaking to others... maybe it's just debating he's good at?  
And the format I'm used to is the World's School format or something, but it's like the 'British Parliament House debate' ... sort of ... We have two teams (Prop and Opp) and three speakers and 6 minutes each, and one speaker gives the Rebuttal speech / closes the debate.

Mathias is Denmark, did you notice? Awwwh I love him! And I had no where to stick him so I just put him in there as the lightings guy. (totally crack, i know)

I Don't know what Elizaveta is doing backstage.. i always thought of her as the female lead... so i might shift her in front later on ... ? i don't know.

Oh and about Mattie and lacrosse... I always knew Mattie and lacrosse should be together. They fit, in some weird way I canot explain . I can just imagine Gil holding Mattie's stick and walking with her back to school over the fields... /

Miss Gudrun is ... she has a somewhat important role later on in the story :D I hope i can get there far (LOL)

.. i just realized TONI DIDN'T APPEAR IN THIS CHAPTER _AT ALLLLL_.

... anyway.

I am so , so , so sorry guys! It's been a _month _since I last uploaded. I always knew I couldn't do multi-chapter stories.

And PoisonIvania was telling me about her reviewers today and i just thought _homigoshness what am i doing? / what have i done?_

So there you have it.

It's school holidays this whole week, but my exams (yes, exams, _again_) start right after holidays end and I'm supposed to be using this week to study but I will try to write / update more.

...I love you guys so much.

But heeey, I had writers' block, and I did write other things like all the angsty FrUK and PruAus


	4. D is for Duty

HelloHello lovelies! It's here! The fourth chapter! I'm so sorry it's so late):

I'm sacrificing my **Walking with Dinosaurs **time to post this (over-due and crappy and super long chapter) for you guys. Have you watched **Walking with Dinosaurs**? It's like this epic documentary about _dinosaurs_. Really, really _**epic**_. I remember watching it every Wednesday night when I was young.

Talking about Wednesday, I'm leaving for Eastern Europe this wednesday night! (it's Sunday today) Anyone here from Slovakia, Austria or Hungary? :D I'll be going to visit your country soon. (The line 'I live in Alfred's eyeball' _never_ gets old). So, sorry people, you'll have this crazy, over-excitable Singaporean girl running around your country oogling at everything. Any Do's, Don'ts and 'places of interest (off the beaten track)'?

And a question. Hungarian florits (they sound so adorable!) in the hundreds are equivalent to 1USD , so is florit used like the way Japanese yen is used, in the hundreds and thousands? (e.g. A cup of hot milk is equal to 200 yen)

Okay, last statement, sorry! **I'm looking for a beta(s)!(:** Someone who is good at hounding people (so I will be motivated to update on time) , and then all the usual stuff like , oh, she/he needs good grammar and spelling and all that shiz. So if you're interested, please to contact me (:

Disclaimer : I don't own Hetalia, any Italian or French or German. Hidekaz Himaruya and Google do .

Warnings - Excessive swearing courtesy of Romina Vargas. D: I apologize for any discomfort . I had to go look up Italian curse words okay . _and my reserved,conserved mum walked in._

* * *

Felicia woke up to the delicious smell of omelettes with tomato and cheese to find that she was chewing on her pillow. Hurriedly, she spat it out and rolled off her bed in a flurry of bedclothes and sheets to land on the parquet (which was already rather messy) with a loud thump.

"What are you doing on the floor?" A voice above her asked incredulously. She looked up to see Romina standing over her, already dressed in her uniform, though her hair hung unkempt about her face, partially shielding it from Felicia's sight. Felicia smiled up at her.

"I fell off," she said. The nightcap she wore to sleep had dislodged during her tumble and she ran fingers through her hair to loosen the strands.

When they were twelve, Romina had decided that she preferred her hair short and had locked herself in the bathroom and cut her waist length curls so that they barely brushed the tips of her ears. Felicia had been both appalled and surprised at how good her sister looked with choppily cut locks, almost like a boy. Four years down the road, Romina's hair had grown to just above her shoulders and Felicia's tresses were as lustrous as they had always been. However, even with their different hairstyles, each twin had a lock of hair that tended to curl more than the rest, Romina's on the right and Felicia's on the left.

Romina snorted and sidestepped her sister to stalk to the only toilet in the room. "I'll be taking a long time so you can brush your teeth elsewhere." The door snapped shut and silence ensued.

Felicia blinked the sleep away from her eyes and stood up, shuffling to the bathroom in the hall to wash up. She went downstairs to hug her grandfather good morning after that.

* * *

She was up long before the sun broke like yolk on the mountain edges and dribbled down their craggy faces. Searching hands brought her to the kitchen to make pancakes – a process that kept both her hands and mind busy. She did not have to think of anything related to blonde hair or crying or the dull ache in her chest.

She made pancakes until her friend woke up and stumbled groggily into furniture corners. Even with her voracious appetite, there were still towering piles of them lying about the kitchen. Numbly she shrugged and moved the towers, brick by boring brick, to the rubbish heap where the wild animals could play with them.

* * *

Romulus laced his fingers together and rested his chin on them, conversing with his grandchild whilst smiling idiotically. Sitting opposite him, Felicia mirrored his expression, telling him about what had happened the past four days, the new pasta sauce she was trying to perfect, and the play Drama Society was putting up after the exam season.

"…you will come, won't you, nonno?" she said excitedly. He laughed and said he would. He handed her another helping of the omelettes.

"And what is la mia nipotina bella going to be?"

Felicia devoured the third helping with as much gusto as the previous two and replied with her mouth full: "Sorella and I are being backstage crew! Or at least, me. Sorella's going to be make-up artist as usual."

"Backstage crew?" Romulus sighed unhappily. "Ma siete buoni abbastanza per essere la stella!"

"No non lo sono! Elizaveta è una vera attrice, ma lei non vuole agire, e comunque la signorina Gudrun voluto il Seniors essere il cast principale," Felicia got up and bounced to the sink with her dirty dishes. "E tu sei una stella di troppo, nonno! Basta che il tuo gestore non vuole –"

"School. Now."

Romina had been sitting silently at the table, munching on her daily tomato, but now she was standing at the front door, staring expressionlessly at the two of them.

"..Ah! Ah. Sì. Meglio andare ora, mio caro."

Felicia left hurriedly to collect her school bag. And her socks. And the pink frilly umbrella Feliks had lent her three months ago.

Because she was upstairs rooting around in her room she did not notice the exchange of wary glares between her sister and grandfather.

* * *

By rule, honking was prohibited in residential estates, but Francis – and Gilbert – never cared and Antonio tired of being scolded repeatedly by the various neighbours for his friends' misdemeanour.

That was why when the first loud honk came, Antonio stopped in his work and sprinted to the front of the block where his friends had just arrived. Gilbert was sitting cheerfully on the headrest of Francis' Mercedes convertible with his feet on either side of the seat, ignoring Francis who was reprimanding him about dirty shoes on the precious leather.

"Yo, Toni!" he called out with a wide grin, earning a rude insult from somewhere above in return.

"Sorry about that!" Antonio shouted back, trying – and failing – to fix Gilbert with an angry glare. His friend was waving his pale arms around in a mad imitation of their blonde friend's chiding growing unbearable.

However, the chiding died away as the Spaniard approached the car. "Tonio, mon ami, pray tell what were you doing before we came?" Francis queried, eyeing his friend's soiled uniform. Besides the smidgens of dirt here and there and all over, there were two large patches from when Antonio had been kneeling on the ground.

"Today I finished putting the compost! That was good. But you came when I was watering them so that wasn't too good." Gilbert and Francis both wore expression of incomprehension before Antonio beamed and cupped his hands. "My babies, you know?"

The albino reached over and pulled Antonio into the car where he sat between his legs. "Mm'kay. Let's go before the awesome me gets late for school."

* * *

He was in blissful oblivion until an accented voice spoke.

"Mister Braginski, how are you feeling today?"

He was tired. He ached all over. He had bled through his bandages. He didn't want to wake up, didn't want to open his eyes and let the sun in because the sun was never enough to melt glaciers. He thought about the red and that was when he struggled to open his eyes.

"Fine," he said.

She arched an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. He had previously visited the hospital often enough to know he was trying not to worry her, or anybody else for that matter. Like a young child, not wanting his parents to worry or fuss over him.

She conversed with him as she worked. "Your younger sister came by last night wh –" here she broke off in titillating laughter at his expression. "–yes, Mister Braginski, she came. She stood by your bed and said she was sorry."

Ivan stared warily at her, and it reminded her of a child once again. "Did she…did she do, say anything else?" It hurt to speak.

She smiled. "Except a kiss to your cheek, nothing much else." Ivan grew paler than before, if possible. He was deathly afraid of his younger sister's strange obsession with him. After all, it was that that had landed him in hospital in the first place. "Don't worry; it was in a nice, sibling-ish sort of way." Here the nurse finished with attaching a new bag to his drip and reached over to check the tubing in his arm.

Violet eyes fluttered close, his energy for the day used up. From behind his eyelids, he could still see the dragon, watching him, drawing him in.

* * *

The walk to school was not a problem, discounting Felicia's habit of running off to investigate any random thing that caught her fancy. Checking the make-up in the bathroom was not a problem. Avoiding the creepy-stalker-bastard's idiotic smiles and newest pick-up lines was not a problem (Romina slammed her locker door into his face). The first period of homeroom was, however, a big, big issue.

This was because the teacher had chosen Romina as one of the 'tutors' for seniors weak in Italian. The result was Romina opening her mouth and spewing a load of vulgarities in several different languages, ending with a 'fucking hell no.'

Hady Coleman was a squat, beer-bellied man with a good amount of humour, but he had a vehement dislike for cursing. "Romina Vargas," he said testily, "as punishment for using abrasive language in class, you will have to take part in the tutoring programme as well as a month of detention." A few of her classmates snickered as Romina slumped back into her chair and glared at her teacher.

_Fucking great_, she thought to herself. _Fucking hell._

* * *

Somehow, word had gotten round the school that their dictatorial Student President was gay and had been dating the school's playboy since the two had met in office a year ago. Somehow, hastily stapled together drawings people bearing the likenesses of the dour Englishman and flamboyant Frenchman in some very compromising positions ended up in a girl's hands. Somehow, said girl managed to tear herself away from her beautiful gift to have a decent (in more ways than one) chat with her friend.

"Miss Gudrun told me today that she wants me to play the star in the end-of-year performance."

Elizaveta pitifully banged her forehead against her friend's shoulder. Roderich sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose. He had lost count how many times they had had a similar conversation.

"And why don't you?"

Brunette locks flew everywhere and her chair rocked slightly as her head shot up immediately, wide eyes staring up at him in shock. "No. I couldn't." Elizaveta shook her head violent from side to side. "Not ever."

_Copper (II) oxide is said to be reduced as the oxidisation state of copper has decreased from +2 in CuO to 0 in Cu. _

"Yes you can, Elizaveta."

"No, no I couldn't! I can't, Roddy, I can't!" her voice was higher now, shriller and more frightened. She clutched his shoulders and squeezed him hard, transferring her sentiments to him through bodily contact. "I can't do it. Not for everybody, not to her."

Roderich held her and let her sob into his shirt, mumbling hysterically. He awkwardly rubbed soothing circles into her back, thankful that it was recess time so no one would witness the embarrassing scene. They had broached the subject many a time before, but Elizaveta had never broken down like this.

"…acting had always been her thing. _Always._" True. Elizaveta's mother was a talented actress, having performed in various roles in the plays at the town community centre during festivals or celebrations. It was her mother who acted as the police officer, the decrepit widower and the vegetable stall owner; her mother who acted as a caring parent and loving girlfriend and as if she never noticed her daughter breaking down inside. "I can't be her."

"How many times must I tell you? You're not her. You're you. You're Elizaveta Hedervary who loves to act."

"– I could never take it away from her, not ever."

"Take what away, Elizaveta? Acting is not something you can 'take' from somebody else. Acting is just as much your talent as it was your mother's. You cannot take it from her, and she can't take it from you. Just because she was a jealous woman who wanted to ruin her daughter's life doesn't mean that she _can_," Roderich chided the girl in his arms.

"I'm sorry…" Elizaveta murmured into his shoulder. "I can't."

He was silent for a moment. This was usually where the conversation ended. Then Roderich spoke.

"You know how my mother is always talking about duty, how it's my duty to carry on the family name and become a great musician, how it's my duty to practice every day for eight hours and still maintain my grades. It's hard, forcing myself to wake up and pay attention in school and play pieces by Bach even though he is German, and keeping up with a few different instruments. It's my duty to smile and play. I used to think it was ridiculous, but then I understood what she meant by 'duty'. It means not to be afraid, or selfish or stiff. It means to share one's talents with people, to lend help to those who need it. And I think," Roderich said, "that it is your _duty_ to be yourself and do what you want."

Elizaveta was silent.

He was silent too, aghast. He couldn't remember the last time he was so outspoken and passionate about something. He had always been the acquiescent one, and yet here he was, lecturing and pontificating.

"Don't let a dead bird hold you back, _please_."

He was tired of seeing Elizaveta curled up on the bed shaking and crying, Elizaveta secretly practising on stage when she thought no one was watching, Elizaveta whacking people on the head with a frying pan when they asked her to act. Tired of Elizaveta not being who she is, who she can be.

She bit her lip and looked away, rubbing her eyes furiously. "Don't say that!" Elizaveta protested, but she was smiling a little through her tears. "That's what Romina said, too." He frowned at the girl's name.

"The Korean boy from the next class saw her working in a bar the other night." Elizaveta pulled away from him and her fingers inched towards the pages of drawings on her desk.

"So? She's not like you: she needs to work to have money," she said pointedly. "When did you start listening to corridor gossip?"

Roderich found himself at a loss for words. He did not want to know what Kiku had given Elizaveta (though he was sure it was ya-uh-wee or something), or watch her stare at the drawings like they were the map to the Holy Grail, red in the face and all problems seemingly forgotten, so he returned to his Chemistry assignment, musing over her question.

_Magnesium is said to be oxidised as the oxidisation state of magnesium increased from 0 in Mg2 to +2 in MgO. _

* * *

_Thud thud thud thud thud – _

"ARTHUR!" The door flew open with an almighty crash, rebounding off the wall and nearly back into the face of the person who had flung it open. Arthur, sitting at his seat, calmly sipped his tea while pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No running or shouting in the hallways," he said robotically. "And no damaging of school property."

Amelia slammed her hands onto his desk, rattling the pens and nearly upsetting the pile of stacked papers, and startling Arthur. "ARTHUR!" she wailed into his face, "YOU'RE NOT REALLY GAY, ARE YOU?"

In return, she got a mouthful of tea sprayed onto her face.

* * *

Ludwig was feeling strange. He felt somewhere in a mix of annoyance, amazement, bewilderment and happiness. It was strange because for the most of his life, he had addressed every situation with a stoic and emotionless front, but this trait was fast slipping away from him. The cause of his woes was currently bouncing up and down on her heels by his side.

Felicia had accosted him by the locker in the morning, walked to his classroom (and hugged him goodbye! Oh the shock!) and had appeared when the recess bell rang. She seemed to be at ease in his presence, which, looking at his lack of friends and experience with human interaction, was usually not the case. When he had no choice but to sit with her in the cafeteria, she had babbled endlessly about her grandfather, and her sister and how heavenly the pasta was, would he like to try some?

For a first-timer like Ludwig, this overload of affection was making him dizzy. In addition, he wasn't sure if he could trust a scatter-brained girl like this. For all he knew, she could have been his brother's latest prank on him.

_Better not be involved_.

"Bye bye Ludwig!" Felicia chirped happily. She hugged him once more and ran back to her class, occasionally turning around to wave at him.

_Better not be involved_.

A nagging feeling in his mind told him that would be impossible.

* * *

Matilda sat at her desk, reading her Literature book and enjoying the tranquillity that came with the absence of her noisy friend. She was almost feeling better, when suddenly two hands clamped down on her shoulders. She shrieked and the book flew out of her hands, clattering among the desks.

"Sheesh, Mattie, grow a pair, will you?"

Amelia plonked herself down in her seat, watching Matilda scramble for her book, red in the face from the shock and embarrassment.

"Don't do that," she said, indignant. "This is the second time you've damaged one of my books." Amelia waved her hand nonchalantly and sprawled out on her messy desk.

Then she sprang back up.

"I went to talk to Artie! And guess what he said!" Matilda froze for a second before flipping through her book, trying to find her page. "C'mon, guess what he said!"

"Don't want to."

"Just guess?" Amelia's voice had taken on a whiny edge now, and Matilda knew she would never get her friend to shut up.

Marking her page with her bookmark, and shrugged. "They're not really…you know?"

Amelia gasped. Matilda thought she had said something wrong, until her friend punched the air and grinned. "Yep! Dang, Mattie, why are you so smart?" She affectionately ruffled her friend's hair. "Since you were so upset about it, being the hero, I went to investigate and Artie told me it's nothing! They aren't going out and it was just a misunderstanding. So," Amelia's smile faded. "that French bastard wasn't cheating on you, which I hoped he was, so cheer up, 'kay?"

Matilda obligingly smiled back.

She had not the heart to tell her friend that she had met him in the hallway earlier.

* * *

Elizaveta stepped lightly in front of the door, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

"Après-midi, mon cher, what a coincidence to meet you here," a silky voice whispered into her ear. She whirled around, arm automatically raised to smack the perpetrator.

"Oh. It's you." She did not care for Gilbert, and had even less regard for his blonde perverse French friend (unless he was contributing to her stash of yaoi photographs). Out of the self-proclaimed 'Bad Friends Trio', Antonio was the only one Elizaveta was fond of.

Francis smiled sheepishly down at her as he released her wrist from his grip. "What a nice greeting! Meeting Miss Gudrun for the play, I suppose?" Elizaveta sighed and knocked on the smooth wooden door that bore the nameplate **Gudrun Kriemhild**.

"What about you?" she asked as the Drama teacher answered the door.

"The same." The blonde breezed past her and grasped Gudrun's wrinkled hand and kissed it before ushering the aging lady to sit down.

Elizaveta muttered a string of negative adjectives before taking a seat next to him, glaring at his smug expression.

* * *

Romina stared at the slip of paper Mister Coleman had given her after lessons. It had the name of her 'student' printed on it in bold block letters. The more she stared at them, the more she felt this tutoring programme wasn't going to work. Well. She wasn't getting any credit for it and the one sitting for the exam wasn't her, so…

Still, she felt kind of bad. Just a little.

_Argh! Fuck it all. _She crumpled the paper and threw it out the classroom window. Angrily, she fished out her handphone, dialling one of the few numbers stored in it.

"Hey, Feli? Do you mind doing detention for me?" The squawk on the other end showed her sister's surprise and disapproval. "Nothing much. The douche-bag teacher, you know? But I have that tutoring shit to do and then there's wor – _no_ you can_not_ go to work for me." Romina wrinkled her nose. "Feli, where are you?" she asked suspiciously.

There was a pause on the other end. Romina clutched her phone tighter.

Felicia's voice came through muffled and nervous amid the distant street sounds. "Ve, I'm…I'm on the way home."

"No!" Her loud exclamation shocked her sister, who hastily held the phone away from her ear. "I mean – I – I – what did I tell you about going home on your own?" Felicia disappointedly eyed the shrinking back of her target before she hurried back to the school.

"I'm not supposed to go home on my own," she said bitterly.

She loved her sister with all her heart, but sometimes her overbearing protectiveness was too much. She was sixteen! What kind of life could she have if her sister was always restricting her? She knew Romina was watching out for her, but how could she prove herself worthy of taking care of herself if Romina didn't give her a chance?

Romina, satisfied with the reply, said her goodbye and thanks and snapped shut her phone. The nerve of her student to be late! Disregarding the fact that she was wearing skirt, she pulled her knees to her chest and glared crossly at the doorway, cursing her unseen student.

Who decided to walk into the classroom at that moment.

"What the _fuck_?"

Antonio forced himself to walk to the table calmly despite the mounting excitement in his chest. Lady Luck _did _love him! He got to spend two days a week (or even more, if he was lucky) with his beloved Romina – who looked so adorable with her face red and glaring crossly at him.

The words flew out of his mouth too fast for him to catch.

"You look just like a tomato!"

* * *

She was walking down the streets aimlessly, trying to avoid the people who did not seem to notice her. After a particularly bad collision with a huge moustachioed man who didn't even say sorry, she had to check in a shop window whether she was still there. Sometimes, seeing the buildings reflected through your image is amusing, but true, it is not so funny after all.

She tugged at her long ponytail, which she had kept courtesy of Francis who loved to do the romantically cliché act of kissing the tips. Sighing, she backtracked her footsteps, seeking the comfort of her room.

* * *

"So, Elizaveta, have you decided? Are you going to be the star of the play?" Miss Gudrun asked. The girl in question fidgeted in her seat for a while before giving a quick nod. Her teacher leant back, relieved. "Good. You'll be Psyche, the heroine of the play –"

"Uh! Miss Gudrun, I'll be the star of the play, but I won't be Psyche," Elizaveta said. An awkward silence followed. "Well, Psyche is just a beautiful girl who is in love with someone. Anyone can be her. Valor can be her if she wants to." The first year was a vain, snobby girl who had her eyes set on being the luscious Psyche.

Her mother may have been the star of numerous plays, but she had hardly been the star in Elizaveta's life.

"The star," Elizaveta continued, "The one that matters, is Eros, her beloved. Eros is the one who manages to overcome his prevailing lust and easy love affairs to truly love someone. Sincerely love someone. It is the saving her, helping her, forgiving her, and risking his life to just be with her, that really matters."

Francis, who had been silently listening, looked at her. "And you will be him?"

Elizaveta nodded. "Yes. I will be him."

He sighed and leaned back into his chair. "Good. I can never be someone like him."

* * *

Antonio hummed a tune cheerfully as the tomato-red Romina slapped a few books and a stack of papers in front of him.

"Alright bastard, let's get this over with quickly, okay?" Romina jabbed a pen at the first sentence of the worksheet. "Translate this sentence into Italian. You have fifteen seconds to do it."

"But –"

"One!"

As Antonio puzzled over the translation, Romina observed him closely, resisting the urge to smack the mop of curly brown hair into the desk. His skin was tan and from where he had rolled up his sleeves, she could see flecks of dirt on his arms. Not to mention his pants were earthy too (she had bent down to make sure). He either never washed his clothes or he spent a lot of time outdoors.

"Done!" He lifted his head and smiled at her, sliding the worksheet to her side of the desk, emerald eyes sparkling. She read the sentence and immediately shoved a textbook into his face, cheeks burning again.

"Try to keep your hormones in check, bastard." Antonio rubbed his sore face and looked at her with puppy-eyes.

"It's all the Italian I know," he said pitifully. Romina wrinkled her nose.

"What were you doing during lessons?"

"Thinking about yo –"

"Don't even finish that," Romina groaned. How was she supposed to teach someone who translated 'Hello, can you give me directions to the nearest bathroom, please?' as 'Ti amo, Romina'? She should have just gone for detention and let Felicia be tortured instead. "What Italian do you know?"

"Erm," Antonio looked away sheepishly.

"This is so not going to fucking work," Romina said. "Here. You, 'bastard', will be 'un bastardo' or 'un figlio di puttana'. 'Fuck you' will be 'vaffanculo' and 'shit' is 'merda'."

"That sounds like French," Antonio offered. She glared at him. "Can we…you…teach me something, uh, that is not vulgar?" Frankly, he was appalled that his teacher was teaching him how to swear.

Romina huffed and jabbed at the worksheet again. "The answer is 'ciao, mi puoi dare indicazioni per il bagno più vicino, per favore?'" Antonio dutifully copied it down as Romina explained which word meant what and the grammar usuage and everything.

He had taken Italian as the mandatory second language as it sounded quite similar to Spanish, which was why he usually goofed off during class with Belle, and now he had a good reason to study harder for the subject.

Romina, noticing that the Spaniard's eyes had a far-off look, growled and barked at him to pay attention when she was teaching.

"Si, insegnante."

"Your pronunciation is off, stupid. The 'nante' is 'nyAA-n-teh."

Only one more hour to go.

* * *

His house was silent when he reached home. The gilded halls, dangling chandeliers and luxurious furnishing seemed shallow, useless, empty. Just like him. He sighed and kicked off his shoes, climbing the grand staircase to his bedroom.

Tossing his clothes and school bag somewhere, he reached for the telephone by his bed, dialling the familiar number.

"Hello, Gilbert?" Francis queried when the line clicked. "I…I broke up with Matilda."

* * *

Gilbert, standing with the lacrosse stick over one shoulder, felt suddenly, and extremely self-conscious. He rapped on the door three times. Not twice, not four times, thrice. Three was a lucky number, so his brain told him. There was a short pause before the door swung open, revealing Matilda.

But it wasn't the Matilda he had hugged goodbye earlier.

"Gott. What happened to your hair, Mattie?" He blurted out. Mattie smiled absentmindedly. Her long ponytail had been snipped off and the locks trimmed till her shoulders. Now free of the confining rubber bands, the tresses had taken a more curly shape and a stray stand curled at the top of her head. And she was wearing glasses.

Glasses.

"Well, I figured I needed to 'start over'. I've decided to try to be more outspoken and not so invisible," Matilda fidgeted uncomfortably, wondering why Gilbert was staring at her so intensely. "Do I…do I look strange?"

"No. Not at all," Gilbert averted his gaze. "Erm, I brought your stick. I accidentally took it home with me yesterday."

Matilda gladly took the offered lacrosse stick, smiling, "Thank goodness! I thought I'd lost it!"

"H-hey Mattie, can you…canyoustartoverwithme?" Gilbert mumbled, still averting his gaze and red in the face. Matilda hugged her lacrosse stick to her chest.

"I'm sorry, Gilbert," Matilda said slowly.

"I promise I won't hurt ever hurt you!"

"It's not that. It's just…" Matilda tried to find the right words. "I'm…not ready yet for another relationship so soon."

"I can wait," he said earnestly. "No matter how long, I will wa –"

"Don't," Matilda shot back, startling him. "Don't say that," she bit her lip. "I can't promise you that I'll ever be ready. So please…please don't waste your time waiting for something that might never happen."

She took a step back and shut the door so gently and quickly he didn't even notice until something cold and wet rolled down his cheek.

* * *

The club was crowded and noisy and the lights were flashing everywhere. The smell of alcohol mixed with sweat and food was making her sick, though she should have been used to it already. Other things she wasn't used to either were the stray hands that occasionally slapped her ass and the catcalls and whistles that greeted her when she served their drinks and food.

She hated her job, but her current boss what the only one who agreed to hire an underage girl like her. And the pay was quite good, too. Another advantage was that she could keep an eye on the customers of the club.

Such as the moustachioed man sitting by the bar, surrounded by the night women.

When her shift was over, she was able to drag the staggering man out to the back alley where she made him vomit up all the shots he had consumed. Reeking of alcohol and vomit, he leaned on her all the way home, murmuring about sunny beaches and pasta and his marine business.

"I love you, Romina," he said while painting her skin with fresh magnolia red and Prussian blue.

He's been gifted in the arts.

"Romina, Romina, the not-murderer."

* * *

I forgot the translations. Silly me.

_nonno - grandpa _

_la mia nipotina bella - my beautiful granddaughter _

_Ma siete buoni abbastanza per essere la stella - But you are good enough to be the star _

_No non lo sono! - No I'm not! _

_Elizaveta è una vera attrice, - Elizaveta is a real actress, _

_ma lei non vuole agire, - but she will not act, _

_e comunque la signorina Gudrun voluto il Seniors essere il cast principale - and besides, Miss Gudrun wanted the Seniors as the main cast. _

_E tu sei una stella di troppo, nonno! - And you're a star too, granpa!_

_ Basta che il tuo gestore non vuole - Just that your manager does not want _

_..Ah! Ah. Sì. Meglio andare ora, mio caro - Ah! Ah. Yes. Better be off, my dear. _

**A/N**: Long!A/N is long!

Heh. Gilbo has a glasses kink! Who would'ya known. :B

So the story is that there were exams and after exams I discovered Pokemon D&P , which meant I was playing it. A lot. Awh I love Empoleon. Anyway. Did anyone notice the Pokemon reference? :B

Or the Norse reference?

So. Because some of you guys are saying that it's too slow, and I personally think so too, I condensed one whole day into one chapter! Which is quite amazing, considering the first three chapters were for day 1. Hrm. This is Day 2 - Tuesday.

Yes, yes. I got the tutoring idea from PosionIvania, but I really can't see Toni as a tutor. I mean. C'mon who's going to listen and pay attention if your teacher is this awesomely good-looking Spaniard? No one. And who's a better teacher than a violent Romi? It makes the lessons stick. D'hurhur.

The reason why this took so long is because I had trouble with the Roddy/Liz scene. GAH. i hate it. And Mattie and Gilbo. Urgh. I really dislike those cliche stories were Girl A gets dumped and Boy B comes up to sweep her off her feet, and suddenly she's totally in love with Boy B. Like wha-? Totally. No.

So. Now you know a little as to why Romi has injuries. :l and hopefully by the next few chapters the issue about Natalia , Ivan , Artie and Romi will come to light :D hurhur. or maybe not.


	5. E is for Ecchymosis

Disclaimer : I don't own Hetalia. Nuh-uh. 

I'm back from Europe and leaving for Thailand in about 7 days again.  
I'm still looking for a beta~  
And I'm half-sad-half-happy because while I'm losing reviewers here, I'm got some really sweet ones for my other stories. Which is sad, for this story, because I really want to know how I'm doing. Besides demonstrating my love for Hetalia, I write this so my writing skills can improve so I really do hope to have feedback.

And a big thank you to **, Shy Music Angel and Ninjafox369** for the catholic information (I can't believe I put it off until now).

**FalalalaLa: **FanFic . net has a nasty habit of deleting people's emails):

**BubblegumRockstar: **i'm trying , i'm trying D:

**Maya-chan2007: **haha yes she does. I love Eliza too! Though I kind of made her OOC. **  
**

**HumanElement: **i try , i try ~ T.T**  
**

**mototsumitama:** 3

another big thank you to you new people who faved/subbed to this story. i hope it won't let you down in the near future.

**Pancake Of Epic Proportions** : i love your penname. derp.

Warning : Romi's mouth , possible OOC-ness , possibly parts of the story not matching up

I don't even know whether i deserve to say such things, but,

Please, if you are harming yourself, _please_ stop. I don't know what sort of life you might have , but I do know that you are precious and beautiful. Don't, please _don't_ do horrible things to yourself. Somewhere out there , there is someone who loves you and cares for you, you are an amazing person with the ability to make someone's stomach do flip-flops, someone cherishes your smile, heck , _I_ cherish your smile. Even though I may not know you, see you, hear you, I love_ you. You_ read the stuff I write. Love yourself, and love others , because they're not worth your hatred; high blood pressure isn't good for health. Befriend people, even more so lonely people, because you might just save a life.

* * *

**e is for ecchymosis**

* * *

Romina's arms instinctively lashed out and she struggled to remove the hands clasped around her face. But the figure looming above her somehow managed to dodge her attacks all the while pressing her cheeks insistently.

"Romi_na_!" her eyes shot open to find her face staring down at her: her sister with years of experience evading her half-conscious defense.

As soon as she realized the hands around her face were her sister's, Romina sighed in relief, and immediately kicked the momentarily unguarded Felicia aside. "Gerrof me!" she tried to stand up, only to be pulled down by her sister. Felicia put legs on either side of her and grasped her cheeks firmly, ignoring Romina's incessant stream of curses and guilty glares.

"Didn't you say you found a new job?" she demanded, fingers digging into the flesh slightly.

Romina flinched and avoided her gaze. "I did. These are just the old ones, okay?" she glared back at her sister. "It's nothing for you to worry about."

"It's not _nothing_!" Felicia retorted fiercely. "You're all hurt and you say it's _nothing_? Why do you even need to work? And at _that_ kind of place? We're not in any debts, and nonno has –"

"I don't give a fucking damn what nonno has!" Romina yelled, throwing her sister's arms off her. She scrambled for the bathroom before Felicia could get a hold on her again. "Fuck nonno, that bastard is the cause of everything!" she growled under her breath at the closed door.

She rested her fingers on the cold mirror; it had vomited dots of purple and strokes of red over her skin.

* * *

Roderich stands in the doorway, fingers resting on the mahogany and surprised by the girl who is flipping eggs by the stove; he coughs and clears his throat lightly. The girl turns around, a little too quickly but catches herself gracefully.

"Morning Roddy!" She says cheerfully, sliding the sunny-side-ups onto a plate and placing them on the kitchen table. "I told the very nice housekeeper from Germany that I would make breakfast today, but," she laughs and tosses the frying pan into the sink, "I only know how to do sunny-side-ups, so," she pulls out a chair and gestures for him to sit with an elaborate flourish and bow, "please enjoy."

She laughs again, and Roderich would have compared them to chiming bells.

"There's an hour before school starts; we can play Bartok if we hurry."

Yes, let's, her eyes say.

He misses his parents but he misses Elizaveta even more.

* * *

"Ve, sorella, where's nonno?"

_Chink_.

Romina pauses for a moment. "Work," she says as she scrubs the plates in the sink with a little more force than necessary. "He…got a call last night."

"Oh," Felicia moodily swings her legs under the kitchen table. "Was it after your work?"

"Yeah." Silence blankets the kitchen, broken occasionally by the chink of plates in the dish rack and swish of water.

Felicia flitters from side to side, peering over Romina's shoulder, fiddling with the fridge, poking the bowl of tomatoes. "Need any help with the dishes?"

"No," Romina says while slapping the tap close, reminding herself too late to behave as usual. "Hurry up and get changed, or I'm leaving you behind." She stares down at her arms, up to the elbows in murky dishwater, as she listens to her sister race up to their room with a muffled squeal of "_don't leave without me!"_ The suds are making the abrasions on her arms an angry red. Frustrated that the boots hadn't broken the skin fully. She really should throw away his boots, like how she threw away the beer and the armour and the miniature wooden boats. And the car keys. Goddamn those fucking car keys.

She lets the water go and dries her arms quickly, pulling on the school pullover and long, long socks. Before Felicia comes nosily down the stairs again, Romina slips down to unlock the door leading to the basement, blanching at the strong scent of alcohol and the inebriated man who lies sprawled on the stained sofa.

She pinches his hand fiercely a few times, wraps a hot towel around his neck and sets a bottle of vitamin concentrate by his unconscious form.

She remembers to lock the door after her and to slip the worn key into her purse.

She remembers to smile and be cheerful for her sister, pulling the sweater sleeves over her fingers to hide the marks.

What she doesn't remember is that her sister has just as good – if not better – a sense of smell as her.

* * *

Katyusha came to school looking more pleased than ever the day before and Antonio, even though he already had an idea in mind, was a bit curious to know what had made the girl so happy. That is why when she bounds into class (much like Felicia, he thinks) with a smile, he greets her and asks about her brother.

'Doing better' and 'reaching a stable condition' are words he expects to hear, but when Katyusha says, "He's awoken!" with a relieved smile, he is shocked. Beyond belief, probably; the last time he had seen the pale, creepy man was two years ago, and he had been half-dead and unconscious and bleeding into the street.

"Really?" he says, hoping the squeak in his voice sounds more like relieved excitement than anything. But he shouldn't have been worried, because Katyusha is smiling and hugging him.

"And it's all because you managed to find him in time!" Katyusha releases him and leans back in her chair, watching him affectionately. "And Natalia, too."

Antonio notes the soft tone she adopts when talking about her sister. "That's great," he says, "I'm sorry."

Katyusha turns to face him, confused. "Sorry for?"

He gives a bright smile and shakes his head. He doesn't say 'nothing' because that would be lying.

He's always thought of himself as an honest man anyway.

* * *

He wakes up.

His head is pounding. His neck hurts, and it feels stifling hot wherever he is. The taste of alcohol and bile is still at the back of his throat, and he lumbers to the familiar bathroom to heave out his stomach contents, wiping the edges of his mouth with the new roll of toilet paper. The towel around his neck has gone cold and he pulls it off, using it to wash his face.

The vitamin concentrate is slugged down in less than five seconds, and for a long while he sits on the sofa, clearing his head and staring at the painting across from him. His eyes trace out the figures, their body shapes and their facial features; their smiles and held hands and he can almost hear the laughter sounding in his ears.

Almost.

* * *

You could have heard a pin drop when Miss Gudrun announces the change to the cast. Until the auditorium doors fling open dramatically, and the figure at the top of the stairs exclaims loudly, "Like, oh em gee, I did _not _just hear that!"

The flabbergasted silence following is broken by Elizaveta and Felicia both exclaiming "Feliks!" delightedly.

"Hello there Feli, and Liz, you go girl!" Feliks swaggers down the stairs, making a beeline for Elizaveta, standing among her peers. "Wow, I've never seen all your drama buddies – oh there's Miss Grumps –, Feli, even though I like, wear myself out making clothes for them. I actually chipped a nail –"

"Why are you here, Feliks?" Felicia butts in, flinging her arms around her friend and drawing her close.

"Well, when Toris told me that Liz darling here was replacing Francis, who is think is totes worse than you, –"

"Hey!"

"– I was all like, 'Oh em gee, _Liz?_ That girl won't even act even though she can!' and then I was all, like, 'since it's Liz, I've got to make her clothes all totes amazing,' but girl, you're a _guy!_" Feliks barrels on through Francis' interruption. "And wearing a _toga,_ girl, are you crazy?

Elizaveta shrugs and smiles sheepishly.

Feliks eyes her friend for a moment. "Well then girl, I'm going to make you like, the most sexy and gorgeous Eros _ever_. Girl's honour." She holds up her pinky for the brunette to hook hers around, which she does with a slight laugh.

"Alright then. While Elizaveta is getting her measurements done, the rest of you will practice the scenes. Those not helping out in the production have no need to stay, unless you want to, of course." Miss Gudrun declares from her seat in the middle of the auditorium chairs.

Romina, after applying the make-up for the actors and actresses, packs her kit and bang and leaves the auditorium, her work done. Usually she would wait backstage (and annoy Mathias) for Felicia to finish, but Felik's manner of speaking, as well as the gossip she was spouting as she measured Elizaveta, was grating on her ears. She dumps herself down in the niche between the vending machine and the last of the lockers, folding herself in and preparing to sleep.

At least, that is the plan until Antonio comes to buy a can of tomato juice and sees her.

* * *

Matilda is annoyed. It is a feeling she's not not used to, but she doesn't feel irritated that easily either; being with Amelia has built up her immunity. She's annoyed with many things, such as the crowd in the hallway that is blocking her access to the field on the other end because even with her change in appearance, the students milling about ignore per usual. And the fact that when she leans into the wall, trying to wait for the mass to leave, some people still manage to bump into her and drop textbooks on her feet.

But the biggest cause for her annoyance is the white haired, crimson-gazed boy who had suddenly popped up by her side.

"Stop following me!" she snaps at him, pushing her glasses further up her nose. Gilbert continues smirking down at her, like he has been for the whole day, in between classes and in the canteen and – oh! "Didn't I tell you 'no'?"

The smile falters for a moment. "Be thankful that I'm letting you bask in my awesomeness, Mattie," he pulls out his hands from their pockets and places them on her thin shoulders, laughing when she flinches at the contact. "Relax. There's nothing wrong with helping the damsel in distress." With that same self-assured grin that is grating on Matilda's nerves, he steers her through the throng of students, which parts as he approaches.

"Thanks," Matilda says reluctantly when he opens the door to the field with a loud kick.

"No need to thank the awesome me!" Gilbert says quickly, ruffling her hair and setting off at a diagonal run for the school gate.

She stands for a moment, smoothening out her hair before heading for the courts.

* * *

"Oye? Isn't this the adorable Romi?" Antonio cracks open the can and leans down, offering Romina a sip of the juice.

"No. So you can fuck off now."

Antonio sighs heavily, moving to sit cross-legged in front of Romina, who glares at him and pouts (so cute~). "Why must you hurt me so, Romi?" She feels the blood rising to her cheeks again, and she doesn't know what to do. Not really, anyway.

"What did you just call me? I never said you can call me Romi." Yup. And then he'd get offended and leave her the fuck alone. "And stop stalking me! You creepy tomato bastard!"

"But Romi is Romi is Romi! Nicknames are what friends give each other right?"

"Who said I'm your friend, tomato bastard?" She shifts her bag to her lap, so she can use it as a shield. "Or even wanted to be!"

Antonio can't help thinking to himself how adorable her actions are. "See! That's a sort of nickname!" Romina stares at him in horror. "So that means," she doesn't recoil, not really, as he picks up her hands from over the bag, blissfully unaware of the blush spreading over her cheeks, "That's we're friends, okay?"

"…Tomato bastard."

"Why are you here, Romi?"

_This man must really be an idiot, or he's just really dense._

"…I'm the make-up artist so I don't need to stay long for practice," she mumbles into her bag, eyes downcast. Antonio wisely figures it's not appropriate to exclaim how she much she resembles a _very cute_ tomato like that, instead racking his brain for the words 'make-up artist'; he's sure he's heard it before.

"Oh!" He drops her hands and she quickly reclaims them. "You're the one in Drama that does make-up to all those photographs, aren't you?" he reaches over again to restrain the flustered girl from jumping up and running away. "Ahh, why are you so adorable?"

"Shut up! I'm not cute! And that was because Francis said that he wanted to do Feli! And – and – get your hands off me!" Romina protests while trying to pry his fingers off her shoulders, cursing his deceiving looks. Who knew under that moronic exterior the dumbass was so strong? "Ouch! You're hurting me!"

"Oye, you must be really good to do that to a photograph!" Antonio chatters on, "You made him so ugly! He was horrified, especially after, when Gil took it to frame it up on his wall," he adds as an afterthought. His grin fades, as he finally seems to notice the tears of pain lining Romina's eyes. "Dios! Lo siento mucho, Romi!" he says, concern filling his eyes.

"Yeah so take your hands off!"

He hurriedly lets go of her, and she leans away from him, wincing as her back collides into the wall behind. She's cursing herself for crying in front of him, and it's when she's wiping away her tears when the sleeves of her jacket rides up, exposing the bracelet of purple half-moons ingrained in her skin.

"Dios, Romi, what is this?"

* * *

"Hiya Artie!"

The sandy blonde's head shoots up, despair filling his chest as the cheery blonde plonks down in the seat opposite him, conspicuously chewing on a burger and flipping through a pile of Marvel comics.

"You're not supposed to eat in the library! What are you doing here?"

"Hmm ey waf vust joona spek sumf fine wiv ew."

Amelia watches the horror creep onto Arthur's face. She mouths the words she knows he's going to say next: "Don't speak with your mouth full!", giving the Englishman a scarring view of her half-chewed food.

"How many times have I told you that already? And don't call me 'Artie'," he adds, scowling.

"How many times have I told you I don't care?" Arthur grimaces, and then sits straight up when he sees the librarian picking her way towards their table.

"Gods. Stop chewing on that burger for a minute and let's go before she reaches."

"Vumph? Ve?"

Arthur rolls his eyes and shuffles his homework together, grabbing his pencil case in one hand and Amelia's wrist in another, exiting the library at an extremely rapid pace while managing to give a curt nod to the librarian. He hurries to the canteen, dragging Amelia behind him, where he sees a flash of striking red hair.

"Oumph!" Amelia exclaims. She looks guiltily at the mess she's made of Arthur's back. "Hey Artie, the ketchup and mayo on your shirt isn't my fault; it's yours for stopping so suddenly." She pokes his side when he doesn't snap at her. "Heey Artie?"

Suddenly, the back turns around and absinthe eyes are glaring at her. "Yes?" Taken aback, Amelia raises her hands up in a surrender gesture, before breaking out into a grin.

"C'mon, don't be angry! I'll wash it for you!" Amelia has to hold in her laugher as Arthur cranes his neck around, trying to see the extent of the damage caused. "What did you see that made you stop?"

The sandy blonde swipes the paper napkin from her and begins his attempts to wipe off as much of the sauces as possible because they are seeping in through the thin material, making him feel _very _uncomfortable. Because Arthur looks downright retarded as he is doing so, and because he says it in a voice too soft to hear, Amelia hardly catches the two words he utters.

"My brother."

* * *

"Romi, what happened?"

The other student scowls up at him. "Wouldn't you like to know, tomato bastard." She pulls her sleeves down and glares.

"Come on, Romi. Tell me."

"_No_!" she snarls, making a move to stand up, but Antonio catches her by the wrists.

"Romina."

She pauses. He's never called her that before.

"Please?" His mind is reeling, going back just a two days ago when Francis told him Romina self-harmed and was bulimic… "I won't tell anyone how you got it."

Romina eyed him. He smiled up at her. Romina sighed, resigned to the fact that she wasn't going anywhere with his death grip on her wrist. Not at all happy but resigned nonetheless. His grip loosened slowly when she sat down again.

"So," she weighs the options in her mind. "I do part-time and –"_ A lie is a lie no matter how white. _She curses her inner conscience. And those green eyes. "– and I will always protect my sister."

Antonio blinks, confused. "From what? And I'm sure Feli –"

"Look, bastard, I will always protect my sister, and you don't need to know why. It's too complicated for your brain to understand so just leave it, okay."

"Bu –"

"No. Shu –"

He's pushing up her jacket sleeves, revealing the beautiful array of bruises decorating her skin. Purple, blue, green, purple, blue, purple. Like rainbows. She holds her breath as he ghosts over each mark, up her forearm to her cheek where the concealer comes away with his fingertips. And a yelp of pain when he pokes the largest bruise on her arm.

"Ow, shit, bastard, what are you doing!"

_Who?_ His eyes demand. Romina presses her lips together.

They continue staring at each other until a voice calls for Romina. As if electrified, she yanks her arms away and a violent shove pushes Antonio to the side so she can go join her sister.

"I waited for you, sorella. Aren't I good?"

* * *

Gilbert paces his sorry excuse for a room. Clothes from days ago drape the furniture, there are food stains on the carpet. The only part of the room that is relatively clean is the study desk, which Ludwig insistently cleans for him every single day. Gilbert gives a growl of frustration and throws himself onto the unmade bed, fingers still clenched around his hand phone.

After five seconds of pondering, he sits up and dials a number.

"Yo, Arthur. I just met your wonderful older brother."

The squawk and the clatter on the other end of the line would have been amusing if in another situation. "Did…did he say anything? About me?" Arthur asks after clearing his throat with as much dignity as possible.

"He did," comes the grim reply. "He says that 'lil Artie better watch his back', and that the knights are searching for me."

The response takes a long time coming. "The knights? Still?" Arthur flinches at the memories. "Anything about Peter?"

"Yes and yes and no."

"A-Alright."

The two keep silent, both immersed in their own thoughts. "And…Liz and Tonio told me that," Gilbert licks his lips. Why is it always him to bring the bad news? "Ivan woke up."

The clatter this time cuts the line and he shuts his eyes, wishing he could cut his past from him as easily.

* * *

"There was a very strong smell of alcohol this morning."

"What do you think saltimbocca is made with?"

Felicia eyes her sister suspiciously, pouting as Romina ignores her in favour of fixing their dinner. They had been working in relative peace until Felicia had broken it. As always.

"Sorella, have you been hiding anything from me?" Romina continues to pound the chicken cutlet. Felicia continues to stir the sauce. "Because I will be very, very upset if you were."

"Fuck, Feli, will you just can it?" Romina exclaims, putting down the pestle. "If I do hide anything from you, it's my own business and for your own good."

Felicia shrinks away, a small frown on her features as she helps her sister prepare three portions, setting one in the fridge for 'just in case purposes'.

/-

She wakes up, clutching at her head. The nightcap lies forgotten on the bed. In her mind's eye, she can still see the two bright lights coming towards her, too low to be street lamps and too high to be a cat's eyes. The night is cold and she shivers, crawling over to her sister's bed.

"Mmnh - go awa - Feli?"

"I had a bad dream."

Romina pulls her close under the covers, the darkness and nightmares softening her heart. "Want to hear a story, Feli?" She feels her sister nod against her chest, and Romina wets her lips.

"A long, long time ago, there lived a man named Amadeo and his beautiful wife named Ravenna. He was the painter and she made the most heavenly saltimbocca, and where they lived was in the countryside..."

Felicia is asleep, and after going on for a few more sentences, Romina starts to fall asleep too, dreaming of holding hands in Italian sun and laughter in her ears.

* * *

**A/N: In the chapters following this , it is possible for you to wrinkle your brow in confusion and disbelief . True . The rest of the story after this is just ... _so_ unbelievable it's _believably ridiculous and fake. _**

I'm sorry. -bows- This is day 3 , the 28th of July. Haha yeah . I don't know how I'm going to keep that. Are there any nation(s)' birthdays that you want them to celebrate?(:

**Anyway! I've sort of started a new story, which is basically going to be a collection of requested one-shots, inspired or based on any Disney (OLD, TRADITIONAL DISNEY PLEASE) song... or any song, really. So if you have any requests, just tell me the song name , the pairing (if there is) and prompt!(: I want to try as many different styles and characters as possible , and this would be a good way. **

YOU DON'T KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO WRITE FELIKS' SPEECH D; i never knew it was so hard.


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